Scandalous Heroes Box Set

by Latrivia Nelson

  Regardless, she played on this, relishing in the moment as she, too, began to delight in the flirtatious game they played. After swallowing the toasted tofu, she daintily dabbed at the side of her mouth with her tri-folded napkin and regarded him with a smile, her head cocked to the side.

  “That was delicious,” she admitted, tired of toying with the man. He’d fight her on every slick comment anyway. No, right now she just wanted to relax. He’d passed her little litany of tests, at least for now.

  “I know. So, eating like this ain’t so bad, huh?” He took a sip of his tea. “Dessert is coming soon.”

  “I’m stuffed.” She sighed. “And I can’t take a cola float home.”

  “You’ll eat it,” he teased. “They are really good, too. I don’t know what brand of root-beer they use, but it tastes old-fashioned. Like the ones we used to have as kids.”

  “You know, I can’t really recall having any floats as a child.”

  “You didn’t have pink cows? Root beer floats?! Awwwww man!” He rolled his eyes dramatically. “They were the best. My mom used to fix them for my stepsister and me and she’d put a cherry on top.” He took a deep breath to emphasize that detail of the fond memory. “I think she stole those candied cherries from work.” He burst out laughing — a carefree sound that made her want to grab it from the air and tuck it in her pocket. “Anyway, they were theeeeee best!”

  “Stepsister, huh? Were you two close?”

  “Kinda. She was like four years older than me, so...” He shrugged. “You know how that is. My parents got divorced when I was nine. My mom remarried when I was thirteen. My stepfather was kinda strict, but a decent man all around. We didn’t really talk much, just stayed out of each other’s way. As long as he wasn’t hittin’ her or treatin’ her bad, I couldn’t nitpick.”

  Though his words were void of much emotion, underneath, Milan sensed a layer of cloaked pain.

  “He kept the bills paid so my mother didn’t too much complain.”

  “You make it seem like they were just friends with benefits.” Milan dug a bit deeper. She was interested in this man, and she wanted to know everything about him.

  Shit. I like him. I really like him…

  “Hmmm.” He shrugged. “I mean, I’m sure she had some sort of love for him, but it was kinda one-sided I think. My mother was just the type of woman that couldn’t do long term commitments, unless it was me or a damn cat, or something like that. She wasn’t really a one-man type of woman, ya know?” He laughed. Again, his words, though rolled in chuckles, sounded a bit forced. Milan listened intently, knowing now without a shadow of a doubt that under that faux merriment lay a torn heart and the birthplace of Julian’s personal brand of cynicism. The launch pad for what and who he was today.

  “She was a good mom, though, you know?” His eyes narrowed as he drifted in thought and played with his fork, tapping it against his now empty plate. “Anything I needed from her, she took care of. She let me get away with too much though.” He nodded, his head low. “…But she loves me, always did. I needed that most of all.”

  “What about your biological father?”

  He looked up at her and grinned.

  “This is interesting, Milan.” He clasped his hands tightly together, intertwining his fingers. “People don’t generally ask me about my family, so I don’t talk about it a great deal.”

  “Oh…do you not want to?” She resituated herself in her seat.

  “Nah, it’s fine.” He glanced at her arm, at the new tattoo that was partially exposed, though covered in gauze. He seemed to study the area out the corner of his eye. “I feel like I know so much about you and your mother… I like this, us sharing.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, he and I had a good relationship, although strained at times, like when I was a teenager. Typical stuff, I suppose. He never remarried. I think he was kinda bitter after the divorce…always asking me about what my mother was doing. Anyway…” Julian sighed.

  “After the divorce, he changed. Became less enthusiastic, but we still had good times. In retrospect, I think my father suffered from some sort of chemical imbalance, mainly depression. He’d be there, but not be there, if you know what I mean.

  “It was kind of like, out of sight, out of mind. He didn’t come over as much later, either. He apologized to me about it years later, stating that my mother always rode his ass when he’d try to come over…but you know what?” He huffed, running his hand across his forehead as if he had a headache. “I only told you part of the story regarding my father and…it’s not exactly good dinner conversation.” He bit into his bottom lip through a grin.

  She knew that grin well, now. He crossed his arms real tight over his chest and turned away, his complexion warm. Hesitating on making a move, she just stared at him for a moment.

  “Julian, it doesn’t bother me,” she finally said. “Look, if you want to tell me, tell me; if you don’t, I understand.” She didn’t want to push him, but…what if he was trying to push himself over the hurdle, if somewhere deep inside, he believed this had to be done? He folded his hands on the table, looking down at them as if he needed a moment.

  “My father died in a motorcycle accident, but it wasn’t actually an accident, Milan. It was on purpose. He left a suicide note…”

  Milan’s heart dropped lower than low. “Oh Julian, I’m so sorry…”

  “Yeah, well, I’ve never told anyone that before. Wow…” Now, his smile was weak, as if it needed some special vitamins just to gain any leverage ever again. “I guess, I just never wanted anyone to think badly of him, even strangers. I didn’t talk about it, not because I was ashamed, but to try and protect him, I suppose. I know people are real judgmental about suicide. I know how people think. Shit, I’m that way too, probably.” He shook his head. “There were days when I wanted to die, but I didn’t! Things happen, ya know?” Julian threw his hands up and his protective grin resurfaced.

  For the first time since she’d laid eyes on the man, she could see deep trenches of intense sadness in his eyes. Heartbreaking.

  “He was a good person,” he murmured. “He had some sort of outlandish obsession with my mom, though. The love was gone, and he had trouble accepting it. … Honestly, I think she was tired of him starting arguments with her, trying to get her back, too…sleep with her at least.” He snickered. “It’s not funny. I’m just laughing because, well, it still upsets me.” His eyes became a bit glossy.

  Damn. The truth hurts…

  “Actually, I do think they were still sleeping together up until his death, but of course that’s none of my business. It was never confirmed.” He rolled his eyes. “Is this too much, on a first date? Of course it is.” He answered himself. “Shit, I’m really sorry,” he said, leaning forward on the table.

  “You know what, Julian? I asked you the question, and I got the answer...and I don’t regret it. I think you needed to discuss this. It helps sometimes to do so.” Milan tossed her napkin in the middle of her plate, feeling a bit depressed her damn self now, though it wasn’t his fault. “But, with me crying in front of you, and everything we know about each other now, I think we can do this, and be okay with it. Plus, I want to know. Continue, please.” She tilted her head ever so slightly and smiled at him. She wanted to give him a place to be the real him and, she hoped, that place was with her.

  He took a look at his tea and glass of water, opted on the water and took a sip.

  “I have one more thing I want to say. I don’t know why I want to tell you, but I do… Something about you makes me feel like I can, and something about you, Milan, makes me feel like you could benefit from me hurting a bit more…”

  “What is it?” She braced herself.

  He looked down at the table, refusing to make eye contact. “The other day, you asked about the tattoo of my child. It’s the most important one I have. I am going to tell you what happened. You see,” He looked away for a moment, ad if needing to catch his own breath. “My son…my son’s umbilical c
hord was wrapped around his neck. For about sixteen hours, according to the doctor, he struggled inside of my ex-wife, trying to breathe, trying to live.” His voice shook. He swallowed hard as Milan swiped a tear from her eye. “This should not be going on, not on a first date…this is too much. I promise you I’ve never done this before, spilled my guts like this. This is wrong. I’m so damn sorry.” He kept his head down and angrily slapped the table.

  “Stop it. Don’t ever apologize to me for sharing such a personal thing again…” she murmured. “It is happening right now because it is supposed to be happening right now. We can’t plan these things, Julian. Now, finish telling me what happened.”

  He shook his head. Emotion drifted from him to her, heavy on the air. “When he was born, it was…it was obviously too late. I held him in my arms. Seven month old fetus…practically fully developed. He looked…he looked just like me. Head full of black hair, same eyes…it was like looking at myself, like seeing my own death, and you know what? I did die a little bit after that!”

  Milan choked back a sob, placed one hand to her mouth and reached across the table, gripping Julian’s hand with all of her might. He kept his head down, but she didn’t miss the sight of one lone tear stream down his face.

  Jesus… Lord have mercy! He’s never talked about this before, either!

  She knew it in her heart; this was Julian’s first time really sharing what he’d gone through, what he endured the day he lost his baby.

  “I was able to say goodbye to him.” He sniffed. “I don’t know how this whole heaven and hell thing works, if it is even real, but it might be. If it is, I want to see my father and my kid again…but while I’m here…” He slowly looked up, his cheek shiny from the recently fallen tear. “While I’m human and on this planet, partaking in this lifetime, I want to be able to try again, you know? I want a second chance. No one can replace anyone, that’s impossible. But…I want to try the whole marriage thing again, because I liked it. And…I want to succeed. Next time, I know I’ll win.” He squeezed her hand a bit tighter, driving some point home that she wasn’t prepared to fully encompass. “And…I want to be a father. I want a couple kids, maybe three or four… Yeah, I know I was meant to be many things, and two of those things are a husband and a father. And not just any husband and father, but a devoted one, a good one, the kind a great woman wants and deserves, the kind that my kids would say after I’m gone, ‘Dad was crazy, but he loved the fuck out of me, and he took care of me…and he was a damn good person.’”

  They paused for a long while, holding each other, giving quiet support in their time of falling the hell apart.

  “Well, speaking of marriage and families, what were your parents like?”

  He’d given up the ghost, and switched lanes. She accepted that he wanted out. He was done. After all, he’d shared something so intimate, and so devastating. Milan came to the realization that it was true — Julian was the ‘bartender’. Everyone came to him about their problems, but no one gave a damn about his own. He was the listening ear for so many, yet he never had a place to fall apart, to unleash his own beasts. What more did he truly need to say? The truth was out now, and he was, at least for the time being, finished discussing it.

  “Well, I told you about my mom, Katrina.” She couldn’t help but smile as she looked down at the table. “She was always encouraging. Like you said about your stepdad, she could be strict sometimes, but she was loving, too. I could open up to her. My father was older than my mom and though he was a good provider, he was a bit…” She grimaced as she searched for the right words. “I suppose emotionally distant is the word. Don’t get me wrong, I know he loved me; we just didn’t have that coziness, you know?”

  Julian and I have some things in common. He may not be so different from me after all.

  He nodded and leaned in closer, hanging on to her words.

  “No family is perfect. Like yours, my parents loved me, so...” She felt a bit awkward, not quite sure as to why. The conversation was getting heavier, like clumpy gravy atop stiff, lumpy mashed potatoes, and she couldn’t stomach it. “Here come the floats!” She clapped her hands, thankful for the reprieve now that the focus of the conversation was on her. Moments later, they sat quietly devouring their respective desserts. She thought her appetite had waned, but she was suddenly more than ready to demolish the tower of sweet, fizzy power.

  This shit has got to be home-made… It is a crime for anything to taste this good!

  He sucked on his straw diligently, then paused.

  “You wanna try this?”

  “I don’t like root beer. Thanks though…you want to try this?” She pointed to her half eaten float.

  “Nah, I’m good.” They kept the silence for quite some time. Then, as if after much thought, he grasped her hand. He intertwined their fingers, the straw still in his mouth, eliciting a smile from her.

  “So.” Finished, he moved his glass aside. “I want to see you again.”

  “I want to see you again, too.” Her cheeks pricked with heat.

  “The conversation got a bit heavy tonight, but I agree with you. It served its purpose. Now, that aside, let’s get down to business. We’re both kinda busy, but…I believe people make time for what they want to make time for.” He had a longing in his eyes.

  She nodded in agreement and looked down into her empty glass with the long silver spoon, coated with a thin layer of ice cream. She desperately tried to hide the growing smile on her face. She tried, but trying and doing were two different things.

  “So, I take it you had a good time, and the food wasn’t too bad? You’ll give me another chance to make you blush?” He bit his bottom lip seductively and tilted his head forward, forcing his long black hair to fall forward and puddle on the table.

  “Yeah...”

  He nodded, appearing quite pleased with himself. “Good. So, pencil me in; let’s secure a day and time.” He slowly removed his hand from hers, and scratched his ear lobe. “Tell me where you want to go, but take some time to think about it.”

  “Actually, I think I already know what I’d like to do.”

  He leaned back in his seat and ran his hand through his hair, combing it back away from his face as he kept his eyes keenly upon her.

  “And what would that be?”

  “Actually, um, this isn’t it, what I’m about to say.” She fumbled over her words, hardly believing the words she had on the tip of her tongue. “See… we are having a company function in a few months.”

  “I want to go out with you again before that,” he teased, causing her smile to tighten.

  “Yes, I know. I just understand how your schedule is and wanted to know, well…” She looked down at her lap, nervously fidgeting with the tablecloth. “If you’d be my date.”

  “So you trust me to not embarrass you, huh?” he goaded, causing her to shake her head and smile. Then he added, “Do you even have to ask, baby?” He grinned. “I’d love to.”

  Baby…

  “Great, it’s the last Saturday in April.”

  Julian pulled out his phone and looked at his schedule. “I’m booked, but I have enough notice where these appointments can be switched around. He began to punch information into his phone — she assumed text messages and calendar updates.

  “We’ll be dressed up; the restaurant is kinda fancy. It’s for one of the upper management guys. Darryl Perfeti is retiring…a really good guy.”

  “Got it…now, I want to see you again, soon, but before all of that, I need you to do something for me.” He arched his eyebrow and a mischievous grin creased his face. The perfectly trimmed goatee completed the roguish look.

  “What?”

  “Lean over this damn table and give me a kiss...”

  She looked at him for a while, toyed with the notion of protesting just for the sake of it, then thought, ‘Fuck it.’ Tossing her hair back, she leaned over the table and pressed her lips into his like he was her man and there was nothing left to consi
der. Soon after, she reclaimed her seat. The soft music in the background didn’t match the tempo of her beating heart. Not with the swarm of busy butterflies in her gut. Hard as it was, she tried to act adult about this, yet her attraction to him kept growing and growing until she couldn’t contain it any longer.

  “Actually, I have a meeting tomorrow night... However, the next day I’m free. Would you like to do something then?” she offered, finally coming back into the moment.

  “Yeah, that’s cool. What did you have in mind?” He leaned casually back against the chair. His eyes said things to her. Things like he was waiting and wanting.

  “I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Maybe the movies, something like that?”

  “I tell you what, and there is no pressure. How about you come by my house after work. We go to see whatever movie you want, and then come back to my house for a nightcap. I don’t like taverns too much, but I have a really nice bar that I built myself, in my home.”

  “Your house? Hmmmm.” The butterflies made a back flip. “I don’t know about that.”

  That perfectly arched brow shot up again. His eyes sparkled with mischief. “And what is going to happen when you come over? What are you worried about?”

  “I suppose nothing. Don’t get your hopes up,” she countered, semi-joking. “Can I trust you to not try to touch me?”

  “No, but if you don’t want me, I won’t.” He looked dead serious.

  “You just said I couldn’t trust you!” She laughed.

  “No, you asked ‘can I trust you to not try to touch me?’, and I said ‘No.’ But then I added, if you don’t want me to, I won’t. Meaning, if you tell me you don’t want me to touch you, then I’ll respect that but otherwise, I may do just as you’ve mentioned. You’ve got to pay close attention, sweetheart.”

  “I’m so sick of you and I don’t even fully know your ass!” She laughed.

  He grinned and nodded. “You know me enough, at least for right now. That’s why you’re still sitting there…”

  They simply stared at one another for a long while after that. He paid for their dinners and they walked out, hand in hand. On the drive home, he told her a story that had her stomach cramping from laughter.